


carrion crows on the motorway

by orangesparks



Category: Jurassic Park (1993), Jurassic Park (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesparks/pseuds/orangesparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not every kid once had a favorite dinosaur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	carrion crows on the motorway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elegant_graffiti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegant_graffiti/gifts).



_nairobi, 1987_

Leaning back in his chair, Robert Muldoon wiped his brow with the back of his hand and frowned. It wasn't so much the humidity making him perspire as it was the parade of jittery nerves.

Dealing with foolish men was par the course for this job - most of his jobs. Eager, boastful, arrogant. All armed with cash and cruelty in spades. He'd found his teenage years of being a guide for big-game hunters not far off from consulting on a slew of zoos and reserves.  


But this latest one was an entirely new exercise in stupidity. 

John Hammond had smiled wide at him before gesturing for him to sit, the expression as much a business tactic as his adorning lawyer and sheafs of paperwork. 

"You've done a fine job with this place, Robert. _Extraordinarily_ fine."

Eyeing the other man cautiously, Muldoon rather wished he smoked. He could do with one or twelve right about now.

"But?" he prompted.

"But," Hammond continued, hands steepled and expression suddenly business-like, "I'm afraid your efforts have outgrown it." 

"Going to send me off with a lovely recommendation, are you?" Muldoon asked dryly. He wasn't truly worried - after his work throughout Kenya and even North America, he'd built quite the reputation in the industry, garnering even a mention in the London Sunday Times. But still, irritation prickled beneath his skin as Hammond hemmed and hawed at him. 

Hammond let out a hearty guffaw. "No, no, no, no. You misunderstand! I'm not-- I'd like to _promote_ you, Robert!" 

He was already game warden - what exactly sort of promotion would this entail? Prime Minister of All Beasts? Surely Hammond hadn't scheduled this meeting to propose a vanity title as ludicrous as that.

"I'm working on a new project, the likes of which have been unseen by the entire world." 

That predatory smile was back, bigger and more unsettling than before. 

"How much do you know about dinosaurs, Robert?"

-

_los angeles, 1988_

To begin with:

Hammond was a manipulative bastard.

(But Gennaro's life was already full of those, wasn't it, so what difference did adding one more to the lot make, especially one with such a full pocketbook and such grandeurs of delusion that they seemed almost too good to be true--)

-

Dr. Sattler has a firm handshake, long, lean track runner's legs, and a strained smile that tells him exactly what she thinks of him. But her cool indifference is positively amorous compared to Grant’s reaction.

He’s used to it – at least, used enough to no longer be bothered much. When he’d attended career day at his daughter’s grade school, they’d both learned a new word from her classmates that made his wife decidedly displeased. (“Lawyer is a four-letter word,” he’d replied, shrugging.) 

For his part, he's not sure he understands their work any more than they do his. Donald Gennaro was, unsurprisingly, not a fan of dinosaurs as a child. 

The plastic figurines didn’t hold the same appeal to him that they did to his siblings – he kept to his model cars, their sleek bodies, glinting chrome, and safe, clean appeal, and they, to the grotesque paint jobs of brown and lime green, those rubber fangs bared in horrible grimaces.  


Angela taunted him for being boring; Joe accused him of being unimaginative. They _both_ looked at him with something like disdain, sometimes, another insult unvoiced by still tongues, ashamed that their baby brother was too— too something _else_ (too cowardly--) but he lifted his chin and ignored them, lips thinned into a line that would become second-nature by adulthood. 

There were plenty of bloodthirsty creatures that could kill you _still_ breathing and skulking around – what was the point in dreaming up even worse ones that were (thankfully) no longer an issue?

-

His own daughter holds a fondness for the creatures that rivals her aunt and uncle. He smiled indulgently at her during her ninth birthday party when he handed her the first brightly-wrapped figurine. There were eighteen more left to unwrap. He still hates the ugly things, but he remembers that enthralled look on her face, lets it help him ignore the nagging feeling lacing his guts when he persuades reluctant investors to take a chance on eccentric John Hammond's newest project.

What could it hurt? 

-

Donald Gennaro was not meant for this.

Tedious partner meetings (every-day-every-week-eight-a.m.-sharp), daily commutes spent listening to NPR, low-fat soy lattes, frustrating but familiar mountains of paperwork - these things, absolutely, _yes_ , welcomed with open arms.

But - chaos? Risk with low certainty of success? Unnecessary hero-playing?

Dangling inches from death, close to some once-extinct creature’s waiting, open jaws?

No.

Not quite.

(He opens the Jeep door.)

-

_vallejo, 1991_

She took one look at the display in front of her and rolled her eyes. 

"Lex, honey," Mom said, placing a hand on her shoulder, 'honey' said in the sort of tone one reserved to say 'you'd better play along or _else_ '.

It was Tim's birthday, and a day at Marine World was his present of choice. And whatever her brother wanted, no matter how stupid, he always got. 

It wasn't that Tim was the favorite, Lex told herself, inspecting the already lengthy strip of sunburn forming on her shoulders (Mom's manicured fingers still digging in, still a warning). It was that he expertly knew how to play their parents - not that he realized it. 

Divorce was looming, Lex knew that much. Becky Davis and Tiffany Summers had already confided in her the signs: the disappearance of "family activities". Lengthy business trips. Birthdays and Christmas suddenly a competition to prove who cared more. 

(The screaming matches at dinner were also a tip-off.)

All Tim had to do was innocently mention his desire to see the new dinosaur exhibit at Marine World, and her parents practically trampled over one another to buy the tickets first. 

Mom won - would always win. Grandpa John was rich ( _filthy_ rich, in her father's words, the bitterness not unnoticed), and all Mom had to do was pick up the phone before there was a brand new FedEx package waiting on their doorstep the next morning. The appeal of owning her every heart's materialistic desire had already worn off on Lex. 

Frankly, she was starting to get pissed off. 

She knew, guiltily, that she'd benefited, too - her computer (her _very own computer_ ) was the direct result of the Cold War between her parents. That didn't mean she couldn't be annoyed by them acting like a pair of the world's biggest assholes.

"Lex! C' _mon!_ "

She sighed, allowing Tim to grab her by the crook of her arm, pull her from her mother's grasp and drag her closer to the photo booth. 

_BRING HOME A PHOTO MEMORY WITH THE WORLD'S MOST FEARSOME PREDATOR!_ , the sign read. Dozens of children and frazzled parents were already lined up in front of the giant, snarling Tyrannosaurus Rex, at least eighteen feet tall and painted dark brown. A family of four had already climbed the lengthy stairs behind the figurine, legs swung over its side and beaming at the camera. A looped recording of growls and menacing "jungle drums" played. 

Because drums totally existed during dinosaur times.

"Luh-eeex!" 

"Okay, okay! Geez." 

Pulling the brim of her Giants cap low over her eyes, she shuffled into line behind Tim, praying that no one from school would see her. It could be worse, she conceded. At least he wasn't obsessed with serial killers or pulling gross pranks, like Jessica Tomlin's brother was. He was only a little kid - she shouldn't be so hard on him for this stuff. 

Besides - when else was he gonna get this chance again?

**Author's Note:**

> Although this story is movie-verse, a handful of background details (Muldoon's former job, Gennaro's family life) were lifted from the novel, different though the two sources are.


End file.
